Glace, an old IMC stockpile used long ago, was abandoned and re-purposed into a settled Frontier planet. The locals, split into tribes, have been locked in a cold war over resources for years. It turns hot as the Remnant Fleet makes an appearance in search of a Bunker and will stop at nothing to find it... save for a group of mercenaries gunning for their heads. (OC heavy)

Greetings, fiction readers! Tis the Doge(s) of legend, the army itself, and I am… uh. Well. Really late on this!

I know I have a lot of stories to update, but hopefully this little number can break my block and get my creative flow going.

Anyway, welcome to Frozen Giant, The. This is coming late as hell since Matteoarts is all like 'yo I'm on chapter 15' and Danii's writing faster than I can. Sorry I'm so late~! I hope I'll be able to take you all on a lovely little journey as I struggle to fit in writing between my packed college schedule, especially with finals coming up.

As always, I own nothing but the characters presented, any similarities to others are not intended. Titanfall is the property of Respawn (and EA, I guess) and blah blah please do not sue me I just write fiction man!

Their boots fell gently against the metal of the abandoned apartment complex they had been pointed to. Here, the was a Pilot. One of the greatest warriors that could be built from a human base, put through grueling training, stuff that would normally break a man within an hour, all to reach a new level of combat prowess. Rarely were they trained by anyone but the Interstellar Mining Corporation.

Rarely did they get out of that alive. The few that did wore the pristine white uniforms of Hammond's private army, but those that thought otherwise had bounties placed on their heads. If the IMC didn't own it, they would destroy it.

Which was, of course, why the mercenary troupe had found themselves in a ghost town. Outside, the wind howled as the blizzard picked up, their helmet visors reading that the conditions outside were not hospitable to life. Which was fine. They weren't going anywhere soon. They had a contract to fill.

Lead, as his little chest patch read, grinned as they came up on a door, shut and apparently locked tight. He stopped and motioned to it. Demo, the one in the back, stepped out of formation and approached it carefully. He scanned for traps, found none, and nodded to Lead. Lead's smirk widened up as he gave him the go-ahead, and took a few steps back with the rest as Demo drew one of the square-ish satchel charges from his back.

He set it against the smooth surface, pressing it to ensure it wouldn't move, and took a step back.

He'd just pulled the detonator out when the door slid up slightly, making him pause and look as a rifle barrel was stuck through the gap. It opened up in his stomach, making him double over and fall back against the wall. Lead promptly opened fire on the door, making it close as the rifle came back. While it was there, he looked back at the two remaining men. Their helmets closed as they prepared for a fight, and he split from them to let them cover the door. He ran to Demo instead, grasping his shoulder as he drew a Stim injector.

The moment he did, he watched the man's arm fall limp, the detonator falling from his grasp as it loosened up. One down. He grimaced as his helmet's visor flashed up a KIA notice, taking the dark, slightly rusted clacker in one hand. He slid back with his group and, with revenge in his heart, blew the door.

Thunder clapped as the helmets insulated their ears from the severe noise, and somehow managed to keep their balance from the concussive wave. The door, of course, didn't survive. Lead was sure that, inside of the room, the Pilot was gone. Or better yet, wounded horribly. It would make him very happy to see him die slowly. Make him suffer. He waited, and looked down at the black-covered shoulder he was gripping. His visor told him it was Six, his best. He gave him a pat, then squeezed his shoulder.

The signal. They moved in as a group, and entered the newly-unlocked room, weapons drawn. They broke formation, Six going left, Lead going right. The newbie, Green, took up the rear and helped scan. The dust hung in the air and whirled around them as they disturbed the haunting peace, unable to see much from the darkness of the room- thank the blizzard- and the debris. That charge did more than he thought.

He chuckled as he spotted something. Something shining on the burnt, scratched floor. He brought a hand up to his helmet, flicking the light on the shiny patch of something. He saw that it was not blood, as he originally thought, and raised his fist. Hold. He took a slow step forward, wanting to avoid disturbing anything, and knelt down to get a proper look. The light played over the pool of liquid, reflecting a brilliant green color. He growled.

"Stim. He's stimmed, watch out." He barked, raising from his knee and turning. That's when he saw it. A pair of glowing blue eyes, as icy as the unforgiving blizzard outside. He opened his mouth to shout as the eyes grew hands, one holding a knife, reaching for Six. Six had no idea until he saw the glove flash over his face, and he shouted as it covered his mouth firmly. The pilot pulled back before either could get a look, dragging Six along with him.

Lead's shout died as he raised his rifle, but found nothing but doorframe in his sights. He saw Green spin on his heel, his R-101 raised to his shoulder. He barked an order.

"Drop him!" He would get nowhere. Lead ran to join him in the doorway, his rifle nestled in his shoulder as he trained the sight on Six. The helmet of the pilot, segmented and angular, was semi-hidden behind Six. He couldn't get a shot. His hands were shaking. The HCOG reticle wasn't stable. He couldn't… He could only grit his teeth and watch as the Pilot dragged Six back.

"Help! Oh, God! Boss, just shoot through me!" Six screamed, struggling hard, moving too much for Lead to guarantee a shot. Under his neck, the Pilot slid a knife. Both Green and Lead tensed up and began moving forward. "Shoot him! I'll be fi-!"

The words died in his throat as the knife's tip was pressed to it. A warning. The Pilot dragged him back farther as Lead and Green advanced. A wall behind him flashed in Lead's light. Once there, he'd have nowhere to go. Lead smiled and looked over at Green, who caught his eye. They nodded and focused back on the Pilot.

As the light from Lead's helmet played on the wall again, he saw a box stuck to the wall. A red screen flashed briefly. He paused, then it happened.

He watched as Six's sidearm left its holster, and the owner was pushed towards them. Six's rifle fell from his hand, and was caught by the sling. He reached for it and only just got it when gunfire echoed in the hallway. Lead saw Six's back jerk as the Pilot behind him fired, his face twisting in pain before another shot came. It tore through his helmet easily, leaving him with a third eye. His expression softened, his eyes dulled, and he fell forward. Behind him, the Pilot's aim shifted. He fired once at Lead as he began to backpedal, surprising the merc with his speed. He barely had time to react as the round slammed into his vest. It didn't go farther, but it knocked him on his ass for sure.

His back hit the metal floor as Green charged the Pilot, who ducked away towards a side room. The red light on the wall flashed, and Lead looked up just in time to call for Green. In vain, as it were.

The world was torn apart by thunder, and he felt his face heat up as he was thrown back onto the floor. There he laid, his ears ringing even through his helmet did its best to save him from the blast. His HUD flickered and flashed up a status report. Green's vitals were critical. His muscles cried out in pain as he tried to move, managing to prop himself up on his shoulders. A blast of cold hit his face through his visor, and he squinted against it. He could barely see a body, not Six's, that lit up blue. That would be Green. He saw torn fabric, a shard of metal sticking out from his chest.

Panic in his own. He pushed himself hard enough to roll onto his stomach, beginning the slow, painful crawl over to his last squaddie. Just hold on, he thought, hoping to some deity he could read minds. I'm coming, we're getting out out of here. We'll get you back home, man!

Is what he would say. His eyes were drawn to movement as a black-covered leg stepped out of the doorway nearby, unaffected by the cold and the snow that was starting to fly in through the hole he'd made. Outside, the wind howled, and Lead couldn't hear the scream as the Pilot put one more round into Green's head. The helmet cracked, and he saw Green's vitals flash red before three horrible, cold letters came into view.

Green: KIA

The Pilot could hear the scream, however. He stepped over Green's body as though some minor distraction, a mere bump in the road. Lead's anger flared, and he pushed himself up to his feet. His legs failed him fast as he came up to full height, and came eye-to-eye with the blue lenses of the Pilot's helmet. In there, he saw a cold that mirrored that of the world outside.

But the heat of anger would not falter. He lunged forward with his fall, intending on taking the Pilot down with him. There was one grenade on his belt he'd yet to use. This one would die.

He found himself in a warm embrace, something pressed against his stomach. His body jolted as gunfire rang, and red blossomed underneath his armor. His helmet warned him that his body was getting cold, and that he was going to die. As if he needed a helmet to tell him that. He leaned against the Pilot with a rasp of pain, his helmet muting the noise so the target didn't hear. He expected to be dropped.

He was instead lowered to the ground, and looked over to the same blue eyes, wide and glowing like an insect. An angel. A demon in blue, he wondered? He let out a raspy breath and gave in to a coughing fit, feeling blood fly out of his mouth and inside of his helmet. He'd never get that stain out.

His visor was blocked with a hand pressed gently against the glow, and he fought the pain in his stomach to try and see what the Pilot was doing. The hand came away, and the Pilot's helmet opened up. Lead was surprised to see a young face, tan and cheerful, with eyes of emeralds that he swore he'd seen before. The helmet's eye plate came up to the forehead, and the lower half slid down to reveal a small smile.

He smiled back. There was a sharp pain in his chest, and he looked down to see a knife stuck in.

He let out one more sigh and let the black take him.

.

.

.

"... End-Ex." He gasped, laughing as his vision came back. Lead sat up and felt himself, just checking to see if the program had cleaned him up. It did, and he opened his helmet. His lighter skin was red with exhaustion as he recovered from his 'death', the stress levels coming down as he looked at the younger Pilot's face. That stupid little smile was still spread out across his features. The boy began to laugh as Lead's own smile came, and he tackled the boy to the ground. The snow stopped, and the temperature normalized to something more temperate and bearable. He playfully dug his knuckles into the tan boy's cheek, keeping him pinned despite his laughter-laced struggles.

"Aye, good job lad!" He cheered, pressing a button on the side of the Pilot's helmet to close up the visor again. A playful, whine-y 'Hey!' came from below, and he laughed as he jumped up off of the boy. He held a hand out for him to take, and pulled him up to standing. The younger one brushed himself off in time before he was pulled into a bear hug, the breath being forced from his lungs by the Scottish bear that had played his nemesis. "Mastering th' craft, yeah? I can point t'buncha things y'can do bettah, but you made it!"

Lead felt a pat on his shoulder, a signal to let go, but he refused. A few more seconds of torturing the boy. He finally relented when he got a punch in the shoulder instead, dropping him down to the floor. He managed to land on his feet. Lead laughed as he regained his balance, helping him by placing a stabilizing hand on his shoulder. He let the boy observe his red-faced smile before he continued.

"So! What'cha wanna do next, Leon?" He questioned, watching the boy open his helmet up. He was mirroring Lead's smile, something he liked to do.

"Again. But harder."

Lead's smile could not be any wider.

Survive all that? Good. That's just something to entertain you all, a little pulse-raiser, a little tease. Next chapter (already working on it) will have a decent set-up.

Hope you'll join me then! R&R, show some love, and I'll get 2 up even faster!

~ Doge

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